


What Kind of Man

by sparkly_butthole



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward high libido sex, Dom Steve Rogers, F/M, Frottage, M/M, Mostly Steve/Bucky, Oral Sex, Sexual orientation confusion, Steve Rogers Is A Virgin, Sub Bucky Barnes, That was the name of the wip, Undernegotiated Kink, Vaginal Sex, but not for long, kink bingo, the dreaded het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkly_butthole/pseuds/sparkly_butthole
Summary: When Steve finally meets the Winter Soldier in an alleyway in Brooklyn, things don't quite go as expected.





	What Kind of Man

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my buddy [Arke](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Arke/profile) for beta on this monstrosity.
> 
> This fulfills Column 1, Row 5 for my kink bingo card: sexual orientation confusion.
> 
> Title shamelessly stolen from Florence and the Machine.

It’s been  _ months. _ Months since they last knew where Bucky was hiding, and Steve’s feeling his resolve begin to slip. It’s not a road he wants to travel, but he _ hurts _ . So much heartache, knowing Bucky’s out there, alone and possibly confused, or in pain, perhaps even - heavens, let it not be true - captured again, back in Hydra’s clutches. 

He shudders at the thought. Any amount of heartache is worth it if it means he can keep Bucky safe. 

But, loathe as he is to admit it, he needs a rest. 

“We got another tip off, some little bunker out in Nowhere, Australia straight up blew sky high. Local authorities think it was some kinda accident since it was a science lab. But Nat’s contact is sure it’s Hydra. Maybe we’ll find something, pick up the trail again. You just let me know. I’m with you.”

Steve takes a deep breath and meets Sam’s kind eyes. Sam stares at him speculatively in return, brow furrowed and lips twisted in thought. It’s probably Steve’s ‘sad old man face,’ as Tony calls it. 

“I want to. And I should go, now, in case the trail runs cold.” Sam nods, sensing that Steve has more to say. “But I’m so  _ tired _ , Sam. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“If that’s what you want, man. I’m not gonna make you go. Hell, I’m tired too. But look, I get it. Obviously, it kills you when we try to track down a lead and it goes nowhere. I see your heart break a little bit more every time, Steve. At the same time, man… your mind’s not gonna let it rest until you find him again. I know you well enough by now.”

It’s the truth, and he’s relieved that there’s someone alive that gets it. The way Bucky would get it if he were here, if that Bucky were the same Bucky he used to be. Steve hasn’t changed much, after all. In fact, if there’s any Bucky Barnes left in the Winter Soldier, he’s probably shaking his head at Steve’s desperation. 

He lies back in the recliner, happy to finally be home for the first time in weeks - between Avengers missions and his own personal issues, he hasn’t seen the damn place in far too long. 

“In other words, I’m a hot fuckin’ mess?”

Sam  _ tsks _ . “The rest of the team know you talk like that?”

“Sam, Tony’s the only person who thinks I’m some pure little flower.”

“... ‘flower.’”

Steve makes a face. “Or whatever. Not the point.”

“Then why are you always getting on us about our language when we’re out there fightin’?”

“Uh… because it’s unprofessional?”

“Unprofess… seriously? You think we’re gonna get audited by the Professional Heroes Association or somethin’?”

“Call me old fashioned then.”

“You’re old fashioned.”

Sam shakes his head and stares at Steve like he’s got three heads. Steve smiles at him softly and leans back in the recliner, hitting the button to push it out all the way.

“That your way of tellin’ me to go?” Sam asks him.

“Nah, you don’t have to go. Get a beer. Turn on the game. I think the Dodgers are playing in an hour or so. We can hang out. Maybe not talk about work for once?”

“Does Bucky count as work?”

“... I’ll get back to you on that,” Steve hedges, and he knows better to pick at this, but Sam’s right - he’s gonna drive himself mad. They have to think of something new soon. Whatever they’re doing isn’t working. But even if Nat’s network of spies can’t track down the Soldier, how will he ever manage to do it? 

Belatedly, Steve realizes that Sam’s been speaking to him for several seconds now. “What’s that? I’m sorry, I spaced out a bit.”

“I noticed. Listen, I think you should grab a hot soak and then go sleep. For, like, a few days. Get some solitude, clear your head. We’ll run tomorrow morning. Sound good?”

Much as Steve would like to spend some quality time with Sam that isn’t related to… work… he knows he’s right. “Yeah, alright. Let me know if you hear something.”

“I always do, don’t I?”

Even bath bombs and bubbles and a soft, clean bed aren’t enough to bring him out of the funk, though. The next morning, when Sam picks him up for their run, the right path is still elusive. Sam looks at him knowingly but doesn’t say anything. 

A few days off will be good for him. Then he’ll start looking again. 

 

He catches sight of Bucky on the third day back home. It’s ninety-eight degrees in Manhattan and there are people up, down, left, and right, but he feels a set of eyes on him and  _ knows _ . The recognition is there in his gut, his bones - he’d know the feel of that gaze anywhere. It’s almost like he can  _ smell _ Bucky in the air. 

Question is, what does he do about it? He has the feeling that confronting Bucky in the middle of Central Park at noon is guaranteed to backfire, but if Steve knows Bucky’s there, it’s because he’s meant to know it. Where does that leave him? The only plan he can come up with is to lead Bucky away from all the people, get out of Manhattan, then approach him. He’s elated and terrified and a shit ton of things are making his stomach hurt with the anticipation, but there’s nothing for it. Too bad, so sad, goodbye peaceful uptown run. Had anyone else interrupted, he’d have ignored them. It’s his vacation, dammit, and he’ll do what he wants. Not that Steve Rogers has ever done anything else.

But  _ Bucky. _

“Hey, Sam? I think I’m gonna run by myself for a bit. Let loose. I’ll see ya later?”

If Sam’s caught on that something unusual is going on, he isn’t showing it. Steve’s not sure Sam would believe him if he told him, or at least not without proof. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll text you.”

He makes his way to the subway station carefully; despite the fact that Bucky is fully capable of running 24/7 surveillance on him no matter where he goes, he’s painfully aware that this is an opportunity he can’t afford to miss.   

What’s Bucky like now? Does he remember himself? Is he fed, clothed, clean? Will he spook? Is he still the Winter Soldier, come to kill him? He discounts the last one; if the Soldier wanted him dead, he’d be dead, and that’s all there is to it. 

Steve tries to surreptitiously look for Bucky on the train, though he’s sure that A. Bucky is one hundred times better than he is at this game, and B.  _ try _ is the key word here. Spy, Steve Rogers is not.  _ Hot mess _ actually seems to cover it. He smiles ruefully. Sam’s right, as always. 

If he’d had any chance of being stealthy, it’s ruined by a little boy, about nine years old, who recognizes him even from across the car. It’s always the little kids.

“Hey ma! It’s Captain America!”

As if on cue, the entire population of one X line train car headed to Brooklyn turns to stare at him. Steve smiles again, shaking his head, willing to bet Bucky’s shaking his own, too. In this very car. Or on top of it. Or maybe even below it. Whatever.

After a round of autographs, photos, shaken hands and, in one memorable case, a story from a vet about meeting his service dog (and he’s a very good service doggie, yes he is) after a particularly gruesome accident in the Gulf War, Steve is exhausted. He’s starting to regret not heading straight down to Avengers Tower. Letting Bucky come to him. Thing is, when Steve lost Bucky, he kind of lost whatever impulse control he’d had left.

The streets of Brooklyn are teeming with modern life, though not quite in the way Manhattan’s do. Kids who have been let out for summer break run to and fro, feral animals crossing the streets without even looking both ways like the little madmen that they are. The sounds of their play fill the sticky air. As he makes his way to the old neighborhood - which he reaches before he even realizes what he is doing - he watches as the elderly water their plants and parents watch their children and wash their cars in the hot summer sun. It’s life, and it’s pleasant. His exhaustion turns to a sense of quiet peace.

At least until he feels those eyes again.

Now the question arises of how to pull Bucky out of hiding. Does he let Bucky know that he knows he’s being followed? Or maybe that’s obvious, given that Bucky probably already knows his routine. Or maybe he hasn’t spent enough time in New York for Bucky to have figured out his routine? Bucky’d been rather busy himself, taking down some of the fuckers that did this to him. At least until recently.

Or maybe, _ maybe _ Bucky isn’t even there and it’s all in Steve’s imagination. 

He finds himself standing in front of what used to be their old home, the first little apartment they had gotten together. A studio, one room with a little kitchenette and a shared bathroom on the first floor. It even looks like the place might still be there, since the building’s been kept up so well. Probably upgraded on the inside. He wonders if anyone lives there. 

Bucky’s eyes are still on him, but if there was anywhere he’d have come out to say hi, it’d have been here. Steve hopes that Bucky at least remembers this place. He takes one final longing glance at it and walks away, sighing heavily. 

Lost in his own memories, he doesn’t realize Bucky’s practically on top of him until it’s too late and he’s being dragged into an alley. Belatedly, he recognizes the alley as the place he was first rescued by his best friend. Where he _ became _ his best friend. 

Who is currently shoving him against the wall behind the old greengrocer’s.

“Bucky?” he breathes. It’s really him - wasn’t his imagination after all. On some level, Steve feels absurdly proud of his instincts, but now is hardly the time to pat himself on the back.

Bucky doesn’t respond, just looks at him. It breaks Steve’s heart that he can’t interpret the look on his face; he used to be able to read James Buchanan Barnes like a book, but he has no clue as to what Buck’s feeling right now. Or the Soldier, if he’s that. Whoever he is. 

Not that he expected Bucky to still be the young man he was once upon a time, not after what had happened to him. But still.

_ C’mon, Buck, be in there. Somewhere _ .

They blink at each other, neither daring to move or make the first step. Steve’s not even sure what the first step should  _ be _ . He’s not sure who Bucky is now, if he’s dangerous or friendly or in need. Hell, half the time he’s hardly even sure who  _ he _ is . 

And then Bucky does the absolute last thing Steve expects. 

He leans in, impossibly close, tilts his head, and kisses him. 

It’s not a chaste kiss, but it’s not wet and messy, either. It’s a hello, a question. Bucky opens his mouth quickly and licks at Steve’s bottom lip, asking for entrance. Steve feels like he’s been poleaxed and has no idea what’s gotten into him when he opens up, like some distant part of himself that’s been asleep for his whole life has awakened, hungry. He does a thing he didn’t know he had in him: Steve Rogers lets that beast inside him take over.

Suddenly, he’s kissing Bucky back, but it’s not the way it’d been with others he’s kissed. There’ve been a few: Peggy and Nat, obviously, and two girls he’s dated since being out of the ice. None of them compare to this. He greedily explores Bucky’s mouth with his tongue, licking everything his tongue touches, angling his head so he can taste as much as possible. Bucky gasps hot against his mouth, shocked by Steve’s forwardness, then steps forward so their bodies are pressed tight against each other. The kiss continues until they are both out of breath, and only stops long enough for each of them to catch it.

Bucky shifts and his cock rubs against Steve’s, and Steve nearly shouts with unexpected pleasure. He bucks his hips into Bucky’s, and that’s it - they are at it like rabbits, rutting in the very same alley in which Bucky had first rescued Steve all those long years ago. Steve had no idea something like this could feel so good, another man’s cock - Bucky’s cock - rubbing against his own, hard as a rock and larger than life against him. 

Steve’s world narrows down to nothing other than the pleasure jolting up his spine. He grabs Bucky’s hips and sets a relentless pace, closeness bordering on painful as he continues to kiss his best friend. Bucky’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he gets close; he whimpers and struggles slightly in Steve’s grip. Steve just tightens his fingers around Bucky’s hips, knowing it’ll probably leave a bruise, at least for a little while, but not caring. Bucky started this, and now Steve’s gonna finish it. 

Their breath mingles in the humid air of Brooklyn summer as their kisses grow messy and orgasm approaches. Steve pulls Bucky to him in one last thrust and comes, desperately trying to keep his moans to himself, whimpering _ Bucky, Bucky _ under his breath. Bucky climaxes shortly after, silently and with his eyes screwed shut like he can’t bear to look at Steve. Fleetingly, Steve wonders how much pleasure Bucky’s been allowed to feel over the past seventy years, then decides he doesn’t really want to know. He’s here now, taking his pleasure from Steve. Giving pleasure to Steve.

Steve Rogers, who, up until this moment, could’ve sworn he was a straight man. 

The two of them catch their breath, leaning on each other, but all too soon Bucky pulls away. To Steve’s dismay, he starts to walk away, down the alley without a backwards glance. 

“Wait, Buck! Don’t go. Please. Stay.”

Bucky turns around and shrugs, unwilling to meet Steve’s eyes. He stands there, and Steve’s struck once more by the fact that he can’t read his friend’s face anymore.

“When will I see you again?” he tries.

Again, Bucky shrugs. As though fighting the weight of the world, Bucky forces himself to look up. The light of the sun is blinding, and his eyes shine a blue grey that Steve could easily get lost in. In them lies a promise - but of what, he doesn’t know and is afraid to ask. There’s shame there, too, and that’s clear as the daylight. Of this, what they just did? Of… other things, any number of things Bucky’s been made to do over the years? Steve’s not sure about that, either. 

All he knows is that Bucky can disappear in plain sight. Can and does.

He touches his swollen lips, reveling in the leftover saliva. Even celebrating the stickiness left in his underwear, no longer just sweat. Proof that this happened. Why it happened, why this particular thing has him giddy and happy like a girl at prom, he’ll try to figure out later. For now, it’s enough to know Bucky is alive and whole. 

Then he realizes - Bucky never said a single word to him.

And he has no idea when or  _ if _ he’ll ever see him again.

Steve’s still on cloud nine when he walks into his apartment at Avengers Tower. The ride home on the subway was a little strange, given that he’d just come in his jeans, but that’s a secondary thing. He’s torn between ‘kissing and telling’ and just… well, he doesn’t know what. What could he even say? Bucky did nothing but show his face and then fuck him silly. Or, rather, he woke the beast in Steve and Steve fucked  _ him _ silly. He has no information other than that to go on, and he’s a shit liar. 

But he has to tell someone. At least about seeing Bucky, knowing Bucky is alive and that he seems well enough. Before he comes down from the giddiness, when the self-doubt and potentially even self-loathing rear their ugly heads. And they will, he knows that from experience. Not quite this kind of experience, but near enough. 

So. Sam or Nat? 

That’s an easy answer: Sam. Nat would know immediately that something happened.

His friend answers on the first ring. “Hey man, how you doing?”

“I’m fine… were you waiting for me to call or something? You never pick up that quick.” Steve’s excitement takes a brief backseat to confusion.

“Uh. Maybe?”

“Okay. Wanna tell me why?”

Sam sighs. “You ran off pretty fast. Something’s goin’ on, right? You’re all breathy and weird right now, too.”

Steve flushes. “I am no such thing!”

Sam just waits. It’ll come out. Steve can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah. Something’s up. You should probably call me on the burner, though. SHIELD’s listening to this, I guarantee it. Maybe even leftover Hydra.”

“Hydra, huh.” Sam rolls that around on his tongue for a moment. Steve’s pretty sure he’s getting the memo. Hydra means Bucky. “Yeah man, lemme call you back.”

Steve swallows while he waits for the burner to ring. How much to actually tell?

“Alright, tell me everything. Where what when how why.”

“Well. I felt his eyes on me. While we were running.”

“Uh huh.” The skepticism is so loud Steve can practically hear the gears turning in Sam’s head. “Please tell me this actually went somewhere and you’re not some over-excited kid in a fictitious candy store.”

“Sam, c’mon. I knew it was him.”

“How does one tell something like that?”

He shrugs before remembering Sam can’t see him. “I dunno. I just did. Spidey senses?”

“Spidey… look, just tell me the damn story.”

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps interrupting me.”

Silence. 

“Right, so. As I was saying. I knew, and I figured the only way to get him to come out of hiding was to be anywhere other than Central Park.”

“Good call. Dangerous, though.” There’s a hint of disapproval in Sam’s tone, though Steve knows he gets it. If it had been Riley, he’d have done the same thing.

“I might be a little unstable,” Steve answers, feeling sheepish.

“No shit.”

“Yeah, well. I went to Brooklyn. Sat in front of our first apartment for a bit. Figured he’d come out there if anywhere.”

“And you thought he was still following you.”

“He  _ was _ following me, Sam. He jumped me in the alley on the way back to the station.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment, undoubtedly praying for Jesus to save him from this idiot. Steve doesn’t blame him. 

“Alright, so what happened then?”

_ Yeah, Steve. What happened then? _

“I, uh…” He’s blushing from head to toe, and boy is he feeling glad that they aren’t having this conversation in person. Sam would know in an instant that something happened. Hell, a blind grandma would know. “I… met with him?”

“Well, that solves the mystery. Thanks for the info.”

“Come on, don’t be sarcastic.”

“Then tell me what the hell he said.”

“Uh. He, uh. He didn’t say anything, exactly.” 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. This is about to get awkward. He just can’t lie for shit, that’s all there is to it. Sure seems like this was a bad idea right now.

“Steve, what are you not telling me?”

“We had sex, okay?”

If he’d thought the other end of the line was silent before, well. 

When Sam finally speaks up, his voice is carefully neutral. “Sex. In an alley. In Brooklyn. In broad daylight. Okay. You wanna give me some detail there, champ?”

Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Nah. I really kind of don’t.”

“So you and Barnes were…”

He blushes again, heat radiating throughout his body. “Actually, I’m uh. Straight?”

“Yeah, sure. You sound straight as an arrow, pal.”

Steve closes his eyes against the word. The one Bucky used to call him. “Well. I mean, I was until today.” He gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Steve.”

“Yeah, whatever. Look, that’s not the point right now.”

“No, but we’re gonna talk about it later.”

He grits his teeth. “Sure. But Bucky. It was… weird. So weird.”

“Don’t know what else you were expectin’ from the guy. He was tortured for seventy years. Weird is about the best you can hope for.”

“It wasn’t like that. It was… we’ve never done anything like that before. And he just walked up and. Kissed me. And then I… well, I kissed him back. And then other, uh, things. I don’t know what to do with this information.”

“Yeah, man, neither do I. Focus on somethin’ else. Like maybe something other than your dick. What’d he say?”

“That’s the weird part. The other weird part. He didn’t say anything. Like he refused to talk, or maybe he’s gone mute or something. When things were… finished… he walked away. I asked when I’d see him again and he just kinda… shrugged. And then disappeared.”

“And how are you feeling about all of this? I mean other than the obvious confusion over your sexuality.”

Steve’s starting to feel the endorphins wearing off. He forces his voice to be steady. “I guess I don’t know. I was still high on the rush of what we’d done, and I still haven’t given it much thought. Don’t want to, ya know? I want to see him more than ever, wanna bring him home more than ever.” Now he’s suspiciously close to sobbing, and goddammit, this isn’t what he needs right now.

Sensing his distress, Sam’s voice softens. “We’ll find him again. He apparently wants you, at least  _ somethin _ ’ from you. I’m willing to bet he’ll come back.”

Steve’s breath hitches. “Yeah? Yeah.” He says more decisively. “We’ll get him.”

“You love him.”

The kindness in Sam’s voice is almost too much. 

“I do. More than I knew, I guess.”

“Alright. I’m comin’ to the Tower. We’ll have some beers and chat. About this, about whatever you want.”

Steve lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you.”

“You’re just you, Steve. There’s no other way to explain that.”

 

It’s yet another hot, crowded summer day downtown. Steve’s at a coffee house - not Starbucks, he hates their rancid coffee, but a small, privately-owned shop. The air conditioning has to be the best thing he’s felt in an age. The coffee’s amazing, too, a simple mocha latte (so screw him, he likes it sweet), not some fancy double half-caff swirly whatever in a size he can’t even remember how to order. 

It’s been five days since his tryst with Bucky, and he’s a little disturbed by how much the experience has already changed him. 

Here’s the thing about Steve’s libido: it’s out of control. When he’d first gotten the serum, it took a major adjustment period and a lot of lotion before he learned to cope. Especially with Peggy around all the time - good heavens, he must’ve jerked off to the thought of her a thousand times during the year they spent dancing around each other. In the middle of the trenches, the woods, the Commandos’ crowded tent - name it and he’s done it.

The thing is, he finally figured out how to tamper his desires. Sure, he still masturbates, sometimes quite frequently, but it’s not the kind of thing that takes over and makes it hard to concentrate anymore. 

Or, well, that was true until a couple days ago. Now he feels like he just got out of the Vita Ray machine, hard as a rock twenty hours of the day and going crazy with it. He shakes his head as he walks out of the coffee shop. Bucky really did a number on him.

It’s not until he’s a couple blocks away from Avengers Tower that he feels the eyes again, but this time, looking around nets him an immediate confirmation: Bucky’s just across the street, watching him with something like longing in his gaze. Steve knows he should be ecstatic that Bucky’s willing to show himself in public like this, to come so close to the Tower and to let Steve see him there. He should be focused on bringing him home, getting him help. 

But all Steve can think about is sex. How it was in that alley. The taste of his best friend, the feel of him underneath his fingertips. The electricity he felt when Bucky’s cock slid against his own. And he knows, somehow, the same way he knew Bucky was following him five days ago: Bucky feels it, too. Bucky wants it as badly as he does. That’s why he’s here, in plain sight, risking it all.

Steve doesn’t say a word, doesn’t try to cross the street. Instead, he turns and walks toward the Tower, glancing across the street every now and then to make sure Bucky gets the message. When he gets to the Tower, he gives Bucky a questioning look, and Bucky just flicks his chin upwards, in the direction of the Avengers’ private apartments. Steve nods and walks in, nearly running to get to the elevator. The fact that Bucky knows where he lives without needing to be told isn’t anywhere near as nerve-wracking as it should be. 

All he wants right now is Bucky. Bucky’s hands, his lips, his cock. Anything and everything Buck’s willing to give him. Fuck his sexuality. He needs this.

Bucky’s somehow already waiting for him when he walks into his apartment, and he immediately locks lips with Steve. There’s no hello this time. It’s filthy, unlike any kiss Steve’s ever had before, not that there are many to compare it to. It’s like Bucky’s fucking his mouth with his tongue, taking everything he can get from Steve. 

Steve’s not playing that game, though. If Bucky wants it, he’s gonna get it. He flips Bucky around and practically throws him at the door behind him before realizing that Jarvis may have alerted Stark that there’s an intruder. 

“Jarvis?”

Bucky gives him a weird look. 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Uh, can you cut surveillance to this room?”

“I can, Captain, but please be aware that Mr. Stark knows you have a visitor.”

Shit. “Well, can you tell him I have a… date?”

“Yes, Captain, I can do that. Though you may want to let your date know that I do not appreciate his little shortcut through my defenses.”

He looks at Bucky, who just shrugs and mouths  _ How else was I supposed to get in? _

“I’ll relay that message, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Captain Rogers.”

A millisecond after Jarvis cuts surveillance to the room, he’s on Bucky, tongue fucking him so hard Bucky’s head hits the door. They both gasp desperately for air when Steve pulls back, biting Bucky’s bottom lip so hard he can taste the metallic tang of blood.

He effortlessly picks Bucky up , the way Bucky might’ve picked him up back in the ‘30s, like he weighs nothing. Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s torso and grips the back of his neck while Steve kisses and bites all along Bucky’s neck and jaw.  Bucky surrounds him, limbs like an octopus, skin touching skin, hot and slick. The smell of him is overwhelming, beautiful in a way he never knew a body could be. All James Buchanan Barnes, the sharp tang of his sweat that Steve remembers from his childhood. So achingly familiar, despite all they’ve been through together. So much like home. Steve doesn't understand how he never realized how badly he needed this. 

Despite his high libido, Steve has never had sex before. That’s about to change, because all he can think of right now is Bucky’s hard cock, the one he’d seen about a million times in the past, back when they’d lived together, hard and dripping precome onto his sheets and beautiful; Bucky bending over to show his tiny, needy hole; Bucky coming apart underneath him. God, he’s salivating at the thought. 

Bucky lets Steve throw him onto the bed, clearly just as eager as he is. In some corner of Steve’s mind, he recognizes how strange this is, but the beast is starving and will not be denied. 

He reaches for the lube in the bedroom drawer, but Bucky smacks his hand away. He gives Bucky a questioning look, but his best friend is soon removing his clothing, throwing it carelessly at the wall of Steve’s ridiculously large bedroom, and the sight of him naked and rock hard absolutely undoes Steve. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says, voice deeper and rougher than he’s ever heard it and fucked out like some kind of porn star’s. “You look like a god.”

Bucky shakes his head in confusion, like those words don’t make sense (maybe they don’t), and motions for Steve to take off his clothing. Steve does so quickly, and watches as Bucky’s pupils blow all the way, taking over his eyes as he gets his fill of Steve’s body. They both blush a deep red, like they’ve always done when they were embarrassed; it is the first time they’ve seen each other quite like this, after all. 

After a few moments, Bucky lies back and gives in, inviting Steve to do his worst by spreading his legs open and lifting his knees into the air. Steve can’t help it; he lifts Bucky’s thighs over his shoulders, rubbing his cock against the newly-exposed tight, warm hole. Even in this frame of mind, though, he refuses to hurt his best friend too much. He again reaches for the drawer, and this time, Bucky lets him take out the lube. 

He puts the lube onto his fingers and slides two into Bucky’s impossibly tiny little hole; Bucky makes a low keening noise, and Steve’s irrationally happy to know that he can still actually  _ make  _ noise. Who knows what Hydra might’ve done to him after he left Steve on the riverbank? The sound spurs him on, and he fucks his best friend with his fingers hard and fast, not relenting even though Bucky’s back is arched and he’s gasping for air. 

Steve’s gonna bust if he’s not careful. He holds the base of his cock as tightly as he can while he adds a third finger to the two already inside Bucky. But he shakes his head again and pushes Steve’s questing fingers out of him, reaching for Steve’s cock and pleading with his beautiful eyes. 

Pushy thing, he is. Steve might have to teach him a lesson one day. 

But not today, because today Steve just can’t say no. He can’t,  _ physically _ cannot, because his cock and his body and even his heart are telling him to do it, just do it, just fuck him,  _ wreck  _ him already. 

So he does.

He slicks up his cock in record time and forces himself in, seven inches in one go; this time, Bucky really cries out. At first, Steve thinks that maybe he’s hurt him, but that turns out to not be the case at all. It’s ecstasy, plain and simple. 

Steve lifts Bucky’s thighs and puts his legs over his shoulders again. Then he thrusts hard enough to break a regular person. Bucky has to grip the headboard to avoid being pushed straight through the damn thing. The movement changes the angle and Steve feels himself scrape against that delicious little bundle of nerves inside Bucky, and that’s all it takes. They both come, voicing a chorus so beautiful it puts his old church choir to shame. 

And the best part is, they’re both still hard when it’s done. Their eyes meet, sky and sea, and the lust hasn’t dissipated one single bit. Steve flips Bucky over in a quick movement and goes right back to fucking him, hitting Bucky’s sensitive prostate over and over again until Bucky’s literally crying, tears soaking Steve’s pillow underneath him. 

Holy  _ fuck _ , there’s an animal inside Steve, and seeing and hearing and feeling Bucky all fucked out like this just makes him hungrier and hungrier. Particularly the tears, and he wonders briefly if that reflects some kind of sickness in him or if it’s representative of something deeper, some need for emotional release the both of them have been fighting. Or maybe it’s just some physiological reaction to being fucked like this, hell if Steve knows. 

They both come again within five minutes. This time, Bucky doesn’t leave, though he’s clearly wary of Steve. He lies in bed next to him, not quite touching but unwilling to move too far away. Like he’s tethered there. Like he can’t help himself and he needs more, more,  _ more _ . His cock hardens within a few minutes, and so does Steve’s. And Steve isn’t sure how many times in a day he can come, but he’s willing to bet that he’s about to find out.

It turns out to be eight.

 

“He left again.”

“Isn’t that what you expected?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But what? You can’t think the guy’s just gonna pop in and stay overnight, even after… wait, you said you spent all day with him?”

“Yeah…”

“What the hell did you guys do all day?”

“Um…”

“Steve. Please don’t tell me you had sex again.”

“Well…”

“All day?”

Steve sighs miserably. “I don’t know what’s come over me. We touched in that alley and it was like the world lit on fire. I’ve never been touched like that before, sure, but it’s not like I can’t control myself. Usually.”

“So I gotta ask,” Sam says in a sly voice, and Steve already knows what the question’s going to be. “Did you set a record?”

Goddammit. 

“Kinda hard to set a record when you’ve never even done it before.”

There’s another silence on the other end of the line, likely Sam trying to figure out how to deal with yet another shock in this conversation. 

“So you’re tellin’ me all those chorus girls, all those opportunities… Peggy Carter… none of them? Or just with a man, you mean?”

“None. Nothing.” God, this is embarrassing. “Nobody’s ever touched me before, Sam.”

Sam whistles, almost like he’s impressed; Steve wants to smack him. This isn’t relevant, dammit.

“Well, maybe that’s what this is about, then. He’s got his libido back and you’ve never been with another person. I mean, it makes sense that you’d both be… thirsty...“

Steve lets out a groan from deep in his chest. “Did you just actually say that we were thirsty for each other?”

“C’mon, Steve, you know how important it is to use the vernacular.”

Ugh, this isn’t  _ relevant. _

“Not the point! The point is, why didn’t he stay? Why would he… let me do the things I did to him… and then just walk away, or hell, run away like a frightened animal? Obviously, he trusts me. And he trusts me with his life, if I can push him down and take him like a bull in the middle of rut.”

“... holy shit, I did not need to know that. I did  _ not  _ need to know that.”

“Hey, you’re the one that’s been talkin’ about it nonstop! You wanted details. There you go. You’ve got ‘em.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam clears his throat. “Anyway… I don’t really find it that odd, considering you’re both kinda under special circumstances. And you’re obviously special to each other. I’m tellin’ you, he’ll come around. Give it time.”

Sam’s advice was good, of course it was, but Steve’s not exactly the patient kind of person, and he doesn’t see Bucky for the entirety of the following week. In the meantime, his sexuality crisis grows. Sure, it’s okay to be queer now, and he never had a problem with anyone being who they were - he’d rather people be genuine, in fact, always has - but this is different. It’s him, discovering a part of himself he’d never known existed. How had he not known something this important about himself? 

None of it makes any sense, but… every time he thinks about Bucky, he gets hard.  _ Every time. _ He might be in the middle of a mission, talking to a politician, or giving lectures to little kids for heaven’s sake, but if Bucky comes up in his mind or, occasionally, during conversation, that’s it. He’s pulling down his shirt or jacket or whatever he can find in front of his junk for as long as it takes to get away and take care of things. 

_ Christ, Rogers, get ahold of yourself. _

_ And not like that!  _

He jerks it every chance he gets. Four, five times a day, easy, most days. Still it’s not enough. Now that he’s had a taste of Bucky, knows what it’s like to come inside his best friend and feel it dripping onto his still-hard cock as he rolls him over for round two - fuck, he’s hard as a rock  _ again  _ \- he wants more than Bucky can even give him. He wants to live inside him. 

After his seventh masturbation session one day, when he’s wrecked himself something fierce, Steve decides to make a phone call.

Sharon answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Steve!” she says all chipper-like, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d been waiting for his call.

“Hi.”

Silence. 

It stretches just a little too long into  _ awkward _ territory before Sharon takes control of the conversation. “So how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh, y’know, hard at work.” He winces at the wording. “I mean, things have been great here. How’s D.C.?”

“Not too bad. The repairs to the Triskelion are coming along. They’re talking about putting Hill in charge of SHIELD in the interim until they find another director. I think a bunch of us are going to rally to have her stay there, assuming she wants the position.”

“Yeah, that’s a tough job, but she’s good for it.”

“I agree.”

Another silence.

Eventually, Steve clears his throat.

“Listen, I was wondering if you’d like me to come down there and maybe take you out or something? I mean, just as colleagues if you want, but I’m hoping… I guess I’d just really like to see you,” he finishes lamely.

Sharon gives him an adorable little laugh, and he feels his dick start to stir. “Yeah, Steve. That’d be great.”

“Perfect. Does Saturday sound good to you?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Great. See you then.”

 

The rest of the week goes well. He still doesn’t see Bucky, which is a relief at this point, and makes it to his date with Sharon as planned. It’s been two weeks since he’s seen Bucky, two weeks since he’d fucked the daylights out of his best friend, and things are finally starting to feel like they’re getting back to normal. 

So when Sharon asks Steve if he’d like to see the apartment, when she guides him slowly and seductively to her bedroom, he gladly follows. 

The sex is incredible, so different from Bucky, different from sex with a man, that it’s astounding. Inside, she’s not as hot as Bucky’s, but she’s slick in a way synthetic lubricant could never hope to match, and responsive besides - he slides right into her and she tenses up around him and it’s  _ heavenly. _ He gets close listening to her moan and watching her writhe under him, but it’s not enough. He can’t quite get there, even though he hasn’t jacked off all day and is jonesing to get off. 

Half an hour of super soldier fucking and two orgasms get him a tired partner who now looks at him as though saying  _ alright, time to finish up, pal,  _ but he still can’t manage and it doesn’t make sense until -

Bucky.

Bucky’s cloud-grey eyes, his thick brows, the feeling of his stubble against Steve’s cheek and jaw as they kiss. Bucky’s arched back, his pretty bubble butt up in the air, presenting his hole to Steve, all for Steve to fuck, to take, to own. Bucky’s thick cock dripping precome onto his bedsheets, soiling them, making the room smell like sex, like the two of them mixed together…

It’s everything he can do to avoid saying Bucky’s name when he comes.

Breakfast is awkward between them. She’s pleasant and polite, but she keeps looking at him askance like he did something wrong. He never said Bucky’s name, he’s sure of that, but it doesn’t change the feeling that she knows something she should have no way of knowing. 

As for his sexuality, well… Steve comes home feeling even more confused than he did when he’d left. Maybe he’s one of these bisexuals, people who are into the person more than what’s between their legs. But no, the concept is silly to someone born before 1920. People prefer one or the other. And he’d gotten hard for Sharon, had made love to her the way a man would do if he preferred women over men. And Peggy… and he’s never been attracted to another man before… 

But when he gets home, Bucky is waiting in the kitchen.

And Steve is  _ thirsty. _

 

This time, Steve gets a real taste of Bucky, the kind of taste he’s been craving ever since the man showed up in that alley and shoved his tongue down Steve’s throat. He’s amazed that Bucky lets him, but once Steve’s got his lips wrapped around Bucky’s cock, all it takes is one look and they’re both gone, meeting eyes and shooting off like rockets. Steve hasn’t even gotten his boxers off yet, nor does he care about the sticky mess as he tosses them across the room. He just dives right back in, swallowing Bucky’s entire cock like a lollipop. 

It tastes like heaven, musky and bitter like beer, and what a thought that is, but it works, because Bucky is addictive as anything Steve’s ever known. He wants more, more,  _ more _ , and he sucks Bucky off with everything he has, making up for what he lacks in skill with enthusiasm. Bucky arches his back and empties himself down Steve’s throat for the second time, every bit as thick and delicious as the first time. And then Steve finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed without even knowing how he got there.

Bucky’s on his knees before him, a vision with auburn hair, sea-grey eyes and the biggest Bucky Barnes smirk Steve’s ever seen. He can’t help the little laughs that punctuate his bouts of panting, and then Bucky takes him in hand and in his mouth - oh god he’s in Bucky’s _ mouth _ \- and if he’d thought it was heaven before, well, he had another thing coming. Literally.

Bucky sucks him like he was born doin’ it, and Steve comes within minutes, embarrassingly quickly. He’s still hard and so is Bucky, who’s leaking precome onto the floor, and suddenly Steve has to get  _ in _ him. Has to feel Bucky’s body clench with pleasure all around him. 

“Hands and knees!” he barks, or maybe growls. It’s an order no different than one he would have given his Sergeant on the battlefield back in the forties, save for the words themselves. Those, he never would’ve dreamed of saying, not to Bucky at least. Not to anyone, if he’s being honest - this is a different kind of sex than he’d ever thought he might want. But being in control like this, taking over, telling his best friend what to do… it’s heady, intoxicating. Addictive. Dominating Bucky is like a drug that he can’t say ‘no’ to. Not even if he tried. Not even if he truly wanted to, and he doesn’t want to. Not even a little bit.

He works Bucky up quickly, hoping that he’s not hurting him but unable to stop himself from going rough, going hard, thrusting in and breaking Bucky. But Bucky doesn’t seem to care; if anything, he’s just as pushy about getting Steve inside him. 

Steve fucks him hard. He fucks him like a super soldier, grace and finesse and utter power all wrapped up in one being, holding Bucky’s hips to make sure he doesn’t fly across the floor in a hilarious display of Steve’s physical prowess. Bucky’ll have rug burns on his knees after this one, but Steve bets he won’t care about that, either, as Bucky’s muscles spasm around him in his third orgasm of the evening. He arches his back in a futile attempt to get more of Steve inside him; Steve’s not even sure how he can take that much dick without splitting in half, and just watching himself disappear inside Bucky is enough for him to come once more. 

He pulls Bucky back up onto the bed and cradles him close, watching his wild eyes watch him, but unwilling to let go. And maybe it’s foolish to try to talk, to try to get to the bottom of this - of anything, really - but he’s got to do something. Something’s gotta give.

And he just knows his dumb mouth will run away from him. It always does.

“I dreamed of you last night. Actually, I tried to sleep with someone… Sharon, this girl I kind of work with…” Bucky’s face scrunches up in disgust, and he hurries on. “I mean, we kind of dated once, but it didn’t work out very well. I… still, I needed to get you out of my head. You drive me crazy, Buck, you know that?”

Bucky stares at him, the thick cupid’s bow of his lips delectable in the dim lighting of Steve’s bedroom. Steve keeps going before he decides he has to bite all the way through it.

“Anyway, I couldn’t… get off… without thinking about you. I think… you’re it? But… I’m straight. We can’t do this because I’m straight.”

Bucky doubles over and he laughs. A real, true laugh, the kind the old Bucky would make back at the dance halls in the thirties and forties. It’s glorious. Steve laughs with him, even though he’s not really in on the joke.

He leans in and kisses Bucky, unable to resist, falling into a haze of pleasure, but there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he’s supposed to be saying… something important...

“Wait a sec - Buck, wait a second.”

Bucky stops kissing him - on the mouth, at least - but moves his lips down Steve’s cheek, chin, neck, licking and sucking and biting here and there. 

“Buck,” Steve gasps. “Bucky, we shouldn’t... “ Why is he out of breath? He’s a  _ straight man _ , for Christ’s sake. This is ridiculous. “My point was, we shouldn’t, Buck. I’m straight.”

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky responds, and tongues his mouth again, deep and wet and  _ oh so fucking good _ . Soon enough, Steve’s inside him again, sliding easily past Bucky’s entrance with just the lube and come already leaking out of him. 

It’s not until later that Steve realizes those are the first words Bucky’s said to him since coming back.

 

He stays the night this time, and he eats breakfast with Steve, but it’s awkward as hell. Not like this entire thing hasn’t been awkward anyway, but Steve’d hoped to get him to stay for good, and that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen. He tries to hide his disappointment, but it’s tough. 

As if it weren’t bad enough already, now he’s catching  _ feelings _ . It’s not just the love of brethren, either, it’s the kind of love that leads to wedding vows and children and a lifetime in the same bed together. And Steve is finding that he wants that. Yearns for it. No matter what’s wrong with Bucky, no matter how many hours or years of therapy he’ll need, no matter if he goes to trial and goes to jail. Bucky by his side is all he’s ever needed. The missing pieces are finally coming together.

“Want orange juice? It’s good.”

Bucky grunts noncommittally. Steve pours him a glass anyway, and Bucky downs it in one go. Steve watches his Adam’s apple bob and is suddenly struck by the powerful urge to bite it. 

He clears his throat. “You know, I have an extra bedroom. I’d love it if you stayed here.” Bucky gives him an incredulous look, so he adds, “At least sometimes.”

Bucky shakes his head and then looks at him with confusion. “Did we… you and I… did we do this? You know, before?” His voice is wrecked and wretched. Steve’s not sure if that’s because he’d screamed himself hoarse when they fucked or because he’d not much used his voice otherwise.

“Before the war? Ah, no, Buck. No, we didn’t.”

“... oh.” Bucky stares at him for a second, wide-eyed. Then: “Look, I’ve gotta go.”

“Buck, no, please. At least stay for breakfast-”

But Bucky’s gone before Steve even finishes his sentence, out the window to God knows where. Steve puts his head in his hands and tries not to cry.

 

“Again, right?” Sam asks him. 

They’re sitting at the sidewalk cafe right outside of the Tower, eating eclairs, and Sam’s giving him the knowing look. Again, indeed.

“So?”

“You think this is healthy?”

Steve scoffs. “Never said that.”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you might be a little dysfunctional, Rogers.”

“Quite possibly,” he agrees, easy-as-you-please. The truth is, it doesn’t matter if it’s dysfunctional. He wants it. Like nothing he’s ever known before. 

“So what’s the plan now?”

Steve shrugs. “Not sure. I mean, obviously I want him to come home. For good. But at least he’s coming around, and that’s something.”

“You’re not thinkin’ you can… what, seduce him?”

Steve purses his lips and says nothing.

“Oh my - you. You’re somethin’ else, Rogers. That’s gonna backfire, I guarantee it.”

“Maybe it will,” Steve acknowledges, “but it’s not just sex. He finally talked to me a little bit.”

Sam eyes him. “What’d he say?” 

“He asked if we did it. Before.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “I’m not the one with memory problems here, Sam.”

“Hey, fair enough. You think he’s remembering something that didn’t happen?”

“That wasn’t my impression, no. I think maybe… maybe he wanted to back then, and he’s not sure if he ever made a move to do it.”

“You think you’d have let him?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Steve admits. “I’m learning a lot about myself these days.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “But you know it’s okay, right? If you’re bisexual, or even gay. That’s perfectly natural and accepted now.”

“Well, I’m not gay. I mean, I kind of… with Sharon…”

Sam puts his head in his hands and groans. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you were trying to get him out of your head.”

Steve winces like he’s been caught red-handed. “Uh…”

“Steve,” Sam says in that warning tone, and that’s when Steve sees him - Bucky, standing across the street and staring at them. Sam looks between them a couple of times and then backs off, walking into the Tower nonchalantly, as if these two freaks weren’t sitting here staring at each other like men in the desert stare at water. 

Steve’s not far behind.

Neither is Bucky.

 

They don’t make it to the bedroom.

Bucky tosses Steve against the wall the instant he enters the apartment, like maybe he wants to challenge the dominance that Steve has shown thus far. Steve bites Bucky’s bottom lip in retaliation, and Bucky mewls, giving in so quickly and so sweetly it makes Steve dizzy. They take to their natural roles like they’ve been doing it their whole lives, Bucky sliding down to the floor and getting to his knees in front of Steve. Steve fists his hair, moving his head oh-so-slowly to look up at him, forcing Bucky to meet his eyes. That thrill washes through him again, head to toe, that adrenaline rush that has him convinced he’s addicted to this, addicted to the sight of Bucky on his knees, hastily digging into Steve’s underwear to pull out his rock hard cock. How could he not be addicted to it?

Bucky’s lips meet the head of his cock and he groans; the vibrations roll down Steve’s cock and up his spine. He makes an embarrassingly needy noise, and Bucky meets his eyes with a smirk - or as much of a smirk as one can manage with a mouth full of cock, at least. It’s almost enough for him to shoot off again. He pulls Bucky’s head off of him with an obscene popping noise and takes a moment to admire the string of saliva connecting the head of his cock to Bucky’s mouth. Bucky, who’s currently struggling against the grip in his hair, trying to break free so that he can suck Steve. Like he’s addicted, too. 

Steve forces him down on his cock in one go; Bucky gags but relaxes enough to swallow around Steve’s cock, adjusting to it just beautifully. Steve holds him there for a long time, counting on Bucky’s serum-enhanced body to keep the oxygen moving through his body while he can’t breathe. The feeling is so incredible, he has to start pumping his hips - once, twice - and he comes straight down Bucky’s throat. 

Bucky takes a deep, haggard breath when Steve pulls him off, then licks his lips and stares up at Steve like he’s asking for more. And goddammit, Steve wants to give it to him… but he wants more than sex from this. The incredible sex and intimacy is just not enough, and Steve feels greedy as hell for that. 

Still, it’s time to ask for more.

“Buck, don’t you think we should talk about this?”

Bucky’s face scrunches up like a toddler’s before a tantrum. Steve wants to smack him, crack him backhanded until he falls onto the floor, and then make him do penance. 

God _ dammit _ ,  _ he’s _ in charge. 

“Answer me when I’m talkin’ to you,” he says in a much harder voice, his  _ Captain _ voice.

“I don’t wanna,” Bucky says sullenly. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Ruin it?” He hits Bucky’s lips with his still-swollen cock, and Bucky flushes a brilliant shade of pink. “Like you could stay away.”

“Like you could, either.”

“Then why do you keep doing this? Just… stay.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are we really talking about this? Just fuck me already.”

Steve growls and tightens his grip in Bucky’s hair. Then he tilts Bucky’s head back until it’s got to be painful. 

“I’ll fuck you when I’m good and goddamn ready.”

Bucky swallows. “Please, sir,” he whispers. “I need it.”

The change in Bucky’s demeanor is so sudden that at first Steve doesn’t register the words, but when he does - how the hell could he possibly say no to that? Steve sounds like a feral animal when he crouches to his knees and pushes Bucky down onto the floor there in the middle of the foyer. He straddles him, growling all the while.

“Fuck you, Barnes. Manipulating me like that.”

Bucky’s eyes roll back when Steve forces his wrists above his head and holds him there. He could almost certainly break out of Steve’s hold with the strength in his metal arm, but he doesn’t, just allows Steve to do as he pleases. 

“Fuck, Stevie…”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve hisses. “Don’t you dare.”

“Or what?”

Steve grabs him and flips them over so that Bucky is situated across his knees. He rips off Bucky’s tac pants to expose the curve of his ass, ripe and ready for the taking. 

“I’m gonna fucking tear you apart,” he snarls, and gets to work.

It isn’t long before Bucky’s crying. Steve doesn’t hold back; even though it’s just his hand, it still stings like a bitch. He knows because it took him a long time to get used to that newfound strength after the serum. Bucky doesn’t beg or plead, just cries, little hitches of his perfect body, wearing a look of pure ecstasy, as though this were a form of absolution. Maybe it is. Maybe he needs this just as much as Steve does; it certainly appears to be the case. Steve gets lost in it, the heady sensation, the sting of his hand on Bucky’s ass, the situation itself. Bucky on his lap, exposed. Bucky submitting to him like this. Bucky. Bucky.  _ Bucky. _

His cock is painfully hard and so is Bucky’s against his leg, but Bucky’s not getting off, oh no. Not for a long time, if Steve has anything to say about it. He wants to make him beg again, wants to hear that ‘sir’ out of his perfect little mouth. Over and over.

When Steve’s hand is tired and Bucky’s ass is starting to bruise, he spreads Bucky’s cheeks and inspects his hole, the brown skin surrounding it, the way it winks at him when Bucky tightens his pelvic muscles in anticipation. He’s groaning and writhing a little on Steve’s lap, trying to get some friction against his dick, but Steve’s having none of that and uses his hand, still in Bucky’s hair, to hold him still. Bucky lets out a low noise somewhere between ecstasy and protest but remains in place. Steve smacks his hole with two fingers. Bucky cries out and arches his back, and _ fuck  _ \- Steve can’t take it anymore. He needs to be inside his best friend right now. 

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, Buck,” he says, devilishly nonchalant. “I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, but I’m not letting you come. You don’t get to come until I’m satisfied and can’t get it up anymore. And then you’re going to stick around and actually fucking talk to me. Got that?” He maneuvers Bucky’s head for emphasis.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky whispers like a prayer.

Steve works him up as quickly as he dares - he’s not going to go in dry, or without any preparation at all, but both of them are in need now, even more than they’ve been the last couple of months, almost like their need for each other grows every time they do this. When Bucky starts whimpering ‘fuck me, Steve, fuck me, please, sir,’ over and over, he knows it’s time. 

He slides in easily, pushing Bucky down against the floor, despite how tight and underprepared Bucky is; Bucky’s as relaxed as Steve has ever seen him, opening up and letting him in like Steve belongs there.

And Steve  _ does _ belong there. It’s like being home.

He comes three times before he needs a break; Bucky’s been good,  _ so _ good for him, so Steve situates him on his lap, grabs his cock and strokes him off nice and rough, the way he knows Bucky likes. He waits a minute for Bucky to get hard and does it again… and then one more time. Bucky’s near tears when he’s finished. Steve leans in and kisses him tenderly. Bucky kisses back, and no - _ this _ is being home. 

But the calm, comfortable mood ends all too soon. He sees it fade from Bucky’s eyes and detaches before Bucky can; it hurts less that way. 

“Stay. Please,” Steve says instead as he stands up. 

Bucky looks ridiculous with his tac pants down around his knees and everything else in place. He looks away while he pulls the pants and boxers back up, even though he’s covered in his own come and dripping Steve’s. 

“Jesus, Buck. You can take a shower here at least.” 

His stomach drops as Bucky glares at him. “I have my own life, you know, Steve.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything about you. Other than that… well, that there’s… something… between us. Not what I want.”

Bucky cocks his head. “And what do you want, Rogers?”

“You,” he whispers dejectedly. “But I’m not going to get that, am I?”

“How could you? Any time we’re together and not fucking, it’s awkward as hell. Don’t tell me it’s not. I might have a brain full of holes, but I’m aware of everything that happened… after.”

“After I broke you out of it, you mean.”

“And I suppose you think you get credit for that.”

“Don’t I?” Steve snipes.

“Fuck you, Rogers.”

“Oh, and that reminds me. Did they do this to you? That why you like it so rough? That why you called me ‘sir’?” Steve knows he should shut up, but he doesn’t seem to be able to help himself right now. He’s terrified that he’s going to lose this, the best thing that he’s ever had, this little bit of his best friend, but he can’t _ help it. _

Bucky just throws up his hands and disappears through the window. 

Steve throws a tantrum so bad that Jarvis alerts Sam, who’s staying in the Tower for the foreseeable future. And thank heavens for him, because Steve is about to lose it. 

 

Bucky doesn’t come back for three months.

 

“Hey, Cap. I noticed you’ve been pretty ‘blah’ lately. Wanna share with the class?”

“... Tony, are you kidding me? We’re in the middle of a fight.” Steve kicks an unfortunate doombot in the face for emphasis.

“I mean, this isn’t exactly a big mission. We could do this thing in our sleep.”

“Tony, leave it alone,” Nat says.

“Yeah. Give the guy some space if he needs it,” Rhodey pipes up.

“Hey, don’t get shitty with me for askin’. Maybe I’m concerned. Don’t I have a right to be concerned about my teammate? My friend?”

Steve can’t help but smile a little at the revelation that Stark considers him a friend, but it’s really not the time. He says so.

“Fine. But we’re talking later.”

“Yeah, we can do that. Like normal people.”

“When have we ever been normal?” Stark mutters under his breath, but drops it.

He does, of course, pick it up the instant they’re back in the Quinjet.

“Guess I should’ve specified that ‘later’ meant ‘in private,’” Steve tells him, gesturing dejectedly at the seat next to him. Seems the entire Avengers team is going to hear all about his private life. He still hasn’t learned to lie. 

Sam is sitting across from them, watching him carefully, asking with his eyes just how much Steve is willing to share. Offering him an out. He’ll take it if he needs to, but Tony deserves a bit of an explanation, at the very least.

“So what is it, Capsicle? Been a few months since you were really yourself, you know?”

He sighs. Of course he knows. “People go through bad times, Tony. You know that.”

“Yeah, but this seems like more than that. You haven’t been this bad since you got out of the ice. Not since… since before the whole Winter Soldier fiasco.”

Tony’s looking at him shrewdly; he tells himself there’s no way that Tony could possibly have an inkling of what’s happened between him and Bucky. Sam’s eyes are closed like he has no horses in this race, but Steve knows he’s there for him if need be. Still, what does he tell Tony that’s truth-but-not-truth? He’s gotta tell him something.

What was it Natasha had taught him? The fewer the lies, the better off you are? 

“I was… sort of in a relationship.”

“ _ What? You? _ I thought you were… asexual or something. Holy  _ shit _ , and I never knew! How did you hide that from everybody? Did anybody else know about this?” 

Tony’s talking a mile a minute, and Steve thinks maybe he won’t get a chance to say anything anyway. At least not for a while. 

“Holy hell, how did I not know? I should’ve… followed you around.”

“That’s creepy as hell, Tony!” Nat yells from the front seat.

“Yeah, I mean I would never do that, but still. Cap, you’re a dirty dog. Ooh!” Tony’s face lights up. “Does this mean you’re not a virgin, either?”

Steve stares at him flatly. “You were the one who suggested I was one to begin with.”  _ Not that you were wrong. _

“Well, you never suggested otherwise.”

“Maybe it’s not your business.”

“Isn’t it-”

“He’s got a point, Stark,” Bruce interjects. “Some people like keeping that stuff private.”

“Like you and Romanov?”

Natasha makes a disgusted noise. “What is up with you today, Tony?”

“Nothing, just, you know, my team leader decided to tell me he’s had a relationship - probably a serious one, too - without my even knowing it.”

“It’s still none of your business,” Bruce says.

“Maybe. But what if it affects your performance in the field?”

Steve firms his jaw. Time to put a stop to this. “It hasn’t yet, and it won’t in the future. Give it a rest, Stark.”

“Just please tell us who the lucky girl is. Do we know her?”

“Stark, please just drop it,” Steve says tiredly. 

“Alright, alright. I’m just lookin’ out for you, Cap.”

He raises his eyebrow. “And?”

“And really damn nosy. But you knew that.”

Ain’t that for damn sure.

 

“So how come you invited me now?” Sharon asks him over dinner. “I mean, I figured after that night a few months ago that you wouldn’t want to see me again. Was it just my imagination, or was that awkward?”

_ No, it wasn’t your imagination. Maybe I’m just awkward with everyone _ .

“Nah, wasn’t your imagination. Truth is, well… I’d never been with a woman before.”

Sharon’s jaw drops. “Not even aunt Peggy?”

He chokes on his water. “Jesus.”

“Sorry. I just meant… you guys had one of those epic romances. I can’t believe you never… you know, never mind.”

The poor girl looks embarrassed as hell. “Don’t worry about it. I understand. And no, Peggy and I never… no. We just kissed once.”

“So I was your very first? You were a virgin? I have trouble believing that. Either that or you’re a natural.”

Steve blushes from head to toe. “Uh. Thanks. But not exactly.”

It takes her a moment, but when she finally gets it, her eyes widen comically. “You’ve been with men, too?”

“Just one, actually.”

She side-eyes him. “From before?” 

That would undoubtedly implicate Bucky. Thankfully, it’s not true.

“Uh, no. After.”

Sharon whistles through her teeth. “Never would’ve guessed it.”

“I guess most people wouldn’t. There’s probably a lot of people out there who don’t want Captain America to be bisexual. I can’t see myself ever coming out.”

“Would you want to date another man at some point? Assuming you’re done seeing this one. I don’t know the timetable, and I don’t want to assume we’re exclusive.” 

She may not want to assume it, but the hope is scrawled all over her face.

Steve twirls his fork in some spaghetti. “I… don’t think so,” he says dejectedly. “We haven’t spoken in a while. I wanted more than he did, I think.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. You deserve better than that.”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

They eat in companionable silence. She stays afterward to watch a movie, but neither of them make a move, not even to snuggle on the couch. Honestly, it feels like a night in with a friend, which suits Steve fine. He’s not ready to put himself out there, and besides that… he’s starting to think that maybe he’d rather be with a man. Either that, or Sharon’s just not the right woman for him. That’s a depressing thought, because he likes Sharon, could see her being a good partner, maybe a good mother, too. But that’s not enough, and he knows that now, after Bucky. After feeling what he’d felt with Bucky, he’d settle for nothing less.

Maybe he’d settle for nothing  _ else _ . 

Steve’s thankful when the movie is finally finished. Sharon leaves him with a kiss on the cheek and an expression of wistful melancholy; she’s gotten the message, whether or not Steve intended to give it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know. Sometimes it goes like that.”

“Wish it hadn’t, though. Really.”

She smiles, a genuine smile, and Steve is struck by how gorgeous she is. “It’s okay. But if you want my advice? Find this guy. He owns your heart, whoever he is.”

Once she’s gone, he stares at the floor, unseeing.  _ He owns your heart, _ she’d said, and she’s right. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. He can’t force Bucky to love him, or even to stay here in the Tower. What right would he have to do that anyway? Bucky hasn’t been allowed any choices of his own for seventy years. Steve has to respect the decision to stay away. 

But it fucking hurts like hell.

He mopes around the next day, but decides that something’s gotta give when Tony gives him a calculating look. That look means Steve’s about to get set up, and that’s not what he’s after right now. He joins a dating service later that evening and prays that whomever he finds doesn’t tell the universe that the good Captain America is gay. 

 

His name is Sven. He’s five-foot-eight and utterly gorgeous, works out regularly and eats well, is tiny and sexy and just what Steve needs in his life, even though he’s not quite as… arousing… as Bucky is. They get along well, go on dates in places where Captain America is unlikely to be recognized, and most importantly, Sven doesn’t tell a single soul about him. He’s starting to feel like a normal human being, slowly coming to terms with his sexuality and accepting that it’s okay to be bent, straight, and everything in between. For two months, it’s perfect. 

Until it’s not.

He sees Sven out the door one evening, after a lovely date and, if he’s being honest, somewhat vanilla sex, when he turns around and nearly jumps out of his skin. Bucky’s standing in the doorway to his bedroom, glaring daggers at Steve.  _ Daggers. _ The old saying ‘if looks could kill…’ has never felt so real.

Bucky growls. Steve just rolls his eyes, not understanding how Bucky can act this way after all that’s happened. Surely a man who has all but disappeared from his life can’t be jealous?

“Were you watching the entire time?” he asks with a sigh.

Bucky stares back with a flat expression - there’s his answer.

“You know that’s generally considered bad form, right?”

“Shut up,” Bucky grits out. “Just stop.”

“Stop? Stop doing what? Trying to be happy? Trying to be normal, trying to adjust? What? What do you want from me, Bucky?”

“I think you know.”

“No. I really, really don’t.”

“Don’t know me as well as you used to, is that it?”

Steve puts his head in his hands and feels like weeping. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

“Sure seemed like you had energy a half an hour ago. Looked pretty bored to me.”

“Really? You’re going there?”

“I mean, that can’t be fulfilling.”

“Neither were you.”

Bucky’s jaw drops like he can’t believe it, the absolute jerk. “Not what it seemed like to me.”

“I’m not talking about the sex. It’s about” - Steve waves his hands in the air as if to encompass everything else - “like, the other stuff that comes with relationships.”

“So you want a relationship?”

Now it’s his turn to gape. “Thought that’d be obvious, Buck. Thought I made that pretty fucking obvious the last time you chased me here.”

“And you think you can find… what, true love? Through them?”

“Them?”

“First her, then him?  _ Him _ ? You’ve gotta be shitting me, Rogers.”

“You walked out of my life, you fucking asshole. You used me for… whatever it was you needed, getting off, I guess, and then just… walked out. You left me here wanting you. Needing you.”

Bucky stares for a few moments and then deflates right in front of Steve’s eyes. He sits heavily on the floor and closes his eyes. 

“I can’t stay away. It’s weird, the whole thing is so weird, Steve… if you knew the things in my head… the things I’ve done? The memories are like dreams, and I can’t tell what’s real sometimes. A lot of the time.” He opens his eyes and looks at Steve imploringly. “You need to understand. I’m dangerous. I barely know how to interact with people. This is the most I’ve said at one time since I’ve been free of them. How can I possibly be what you need, Steve?”

Steve’s heart aches. He’s such a dumb punk for not realizing, for not thinking about Bucky’s situation, for being so damn selfish. He sits down on the floor next to his best friend and takes his hand. Bucky doesn’t stop him, just keeps watching him closely.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t… well, it doesn’t matter. You’re what I need because you’re  _ Bucky. _ Don’t you get that? It’s always been you, Buck. Always.”

“But you said we weren’t together before. And there was Carter, too, I’m fairly certain of that. God, I hated her because she had you. I don’t remember much for sure, but I’m sure of that.”

“I didn’t realize how I felt until after you met me in that alley. It was always there, underneath the surface. My childlike hero worship that grew into idolizing you, wishing I could be you. Be by your side in the war. I guess because you were a man, and it was back then, you know? I couldn’t look it in the face. But things are different now. And I’m different.”

“And I’m different, too,” Bucky says bitterly. “I’m not the same man, Steve. If I stay, they’ll put me on trial. They’ll fuck with my head, maybe as much as Hydra did, in the name of protecting me, and protecting those around me. It’s terrifying,” he admits.

“I know. But I won’t let them take you from me again. I won’t let  _ you _ take you away, either.” Steve pauses, needing a moment to think about how to say it. He can’t lose Bucky because of it, but Bucky’s time with Hydra needs to be addressed.

“Look, I need you to promise you won’t get mad.”

Bucky looks at him bemusedly. “I’ll try.”

“I just… I need to make sure that you’re… that you weren’t… that they didn’t do that to you.”

“Treat me like a… sex slave, or something?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“No. I might be a lot of things, have a lot of issues to work through, but that? That ain’t one of ‘em. Truth is, it was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”

“I’m still concerned about… taking over in any capacity,” Steve says carefully. “I mean, they controlled you for a long time. Absolutely. And I don’t want to do what they did. You know?”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Yeah, I get it. But on the flip side of that, I don’t know how to act. How to talk to people anymore. There’s so much I need to relearn. I need someone leading me. So maybe I need you to take control. Until I can get back on my own feet.”

“Control?”

“Yeah. Walk me through it.”

Steve swallows. “Does that include… the other things we do?”

Bucky’s lips part, and there goes Steve’s dick, standing at attention in his track pants. “Of course it does,” Bucky whispers. “And that one ain’t gonna go away, darlin’.”

Steve’s still a little skeptical, though. Bucky suddenly wanting to stay is pleasant but unexpected. “How will I know that you’ll really stay? That you won’t run away again? You know I’m a little gun shy now. Because I do need you. I can’t keep going through that... the disappearing act.”

“I know. I need you, too. And I’m sorry for disappearing like that.”

“So, what then?”

“Tell me to stay,” Bucky whispers. “Command me. I’m yours. Just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Well, I can do that.”

The tiny, amused upturn of Bucky’s lip reaches his eyes. “I know you can.”

“Stay,” Steve says in his best Captain America voice. “Stay here with me, and I promise I’ll take care of you.” He can’t help how his tone shifts to something softer by the end. 

Bucky shivers. “I will. I swear it.”

The silence that follows is actually comfortable, companionable. A little like the old days, but not quite. He supposes they’ll have to adjust in a lot of ways. To Bucky’s new schedule, whatever that will be - probably lots of therapy and assessments. He’ll make sure that Bucky is allowed to stay with him in the Tower before he lets Stark in on it - if he can’t get that assurance, they’ll go away together. And Steve will have to learn to trust that his best friend can also be his lover, that it doesn’t have to be awkward between them because of it. 

And there will be problems, there’s no way around that. But Steve’s pretty sure they can make it work, that he has the patience required to help Bucky heal. 

And as Bucky stares at him with fear and anticipation and a shred of hope, Steve knows things are going to be okay. 

 

Three months later, things are better between them - still a little awkward sometimes, especially when Bucky’s mind goes a little blank and he doesn’t know what to say, how to interact properly. But he’s in therapy, and his trial has been dismissed due his status as a POW. He lives in the Tower with Steve and has a breakfast consisting of one burnt bagel and two black coffees every morning. He complains about how soft the bed is and marvels at modern amenities like Netflix and internet porn. 

And he obeys Steve.  _ Oh, _ how he obeys.

“Good lord, do you remember when we had to steal mags from my dad just to get a view like this?” he asks one day while Steve gets ready to run with Sam. (Bucky wants none of that, thank you very much.) 

“Why are you watching porn at this hour?”

“Uh, because I can?”

Steve shakes his head fondly. “Never change, Buck.”

Bucky gives him a toothy grin. “Don’t plan on it, champ.”

Sam joins them for breakfast, something he does on occasion. Bucky usually makes himself scarce, but today is a good day, so he hangs around. Sam comments on it.

“Yeah, I feel pretty good today. Last night was I think the first time I’ve slept without a nightmare since… well, since. It’s a nice feeling.”

“I can only imagine. Listen, man, we’ve got some new programs set up in D.C., and I’m workin’ with the VA to implement something here. You should come check it out.”

Bucky makes a face. “I’m not ready for that just yet.”

“Alright, fair enough. But if you change your mind, you know where I am.”

Bucky’s new fancy StarkTab chimes then, and music starts playing. His eyes get comically wide and he runs across the room to turn it off, but not before the sounds of two men grunting and groaning in pleasure fills the room. 

Sam looks from Steve to Bucky, sees the look they share, and slowly puts his hands up. “Yeah, uh, I think I should go now…” 

Bucky’s on his knees in front of Steve by the time the sentence is out of Sam’s mouth. 

They don’t even notice him leave the room. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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